To Challenge One's Fate
by PyroNeko
Summary: AU: Set during ep. 18 of the animated series, Zuko is very badly damaged when his ship explodes. Iro rescues him and nurses him back to health, but he isn't the same. His fate has been forever changed by one single event. Will he get his life back on track or can he allow this tragedy to remake him? Zuko/OC
1. To Suffer Through Tragedy

**A/N: My first actual new offering in the way of a new story in many years. I apologize for the angst, I admit I had a hard time writing it, but it gets better, I promise! I hope everyone likes it, please read and review!**

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Not even Zuko...*sob*

He glanced up and tensed, he was sure he'd heard a sound. "Uncle?" There shouldn't be anyone on the ship with him; even Uncle was supposed to be off on some stupid walk. He deftly leaped out of his cot and ran over to the door, opening it quietly. "Uncle, is that you?" He frowned, glancing around with a look of worry and jumped through the door, assuming a fighting stance, muscles taut and ready for battle. He looked left and right, then crept down the hallway and jumped into the next corridor, ready to fight. All was silent and empty. He frowned again and walked down the hallway in search of whatever had made the sound he heard. He finally made it into the control room above the deck and looked around, scratching his head in confusion. There seemed to be no reason for his alarm, but as he walked forwards something caught his eye outside and he whirled around in shock. It was the evil green mutated parrot-like creature that belonged to those disgusting pirates they had previously done 'business' with. His mouth dropped open; suddenly the creature took to the skies with a "squawk!" and his eyes widened in surprise and realization. Suddenly, out of nowhere it seemed, came the sound of an explosion and the ship shook beneath him, he threw out his arms to steady himself, gasping and crying out in alarm, when all at once there was fire everywhere; instinctively he did the only thing he could do and attempted to shield himself within a ball of his own fire, screaming in burning agony as pieces of the ship that had become shrapnel collided with his body and the entire ship exploded in a huge ball of flame.

Iro whirled around in shock when he heard the explosions. "Zuko!" He shouted, when he saw the heavy black plumes of smoke, and eerie glow on the horizon. He dashed back down the trail he'd taken just minutes before and past the hills to see the entire ship blown asunder and burning hotly. He ran to the edge of the pier and came to a halt, staring in abstract horror at the terrible sight; the fires from the ship causing waves of heat to assault his body. "Zuko." In sorrow he uttered the name of his nephew, the young man he cherished as he had his own son. He bowed his head and his eyes shut, as if to shut out the pain. He'd lost another son.

Pain. His whole world was pain; terrible sharp, throbbing, burning, excruciating pain. He thought he would lose his mind from the intensity of it. He gasped and choked, water pouring out of his mouth. He coughed and choked again, unable to stop himself even though just those actions alone somehow caused him even more pain. He lay on the bank of the river, half in and half out of the water. He tried to focus, to force his mind to give him a reason as to why he was there, but it would not. He couldn't remember anything. There was only the water, the ground underneath him, the cold, and the pain. He tried to move, reason attempting to assert itself through the haze in his brain. He needed to get out of the water. He moved his arms with difficulty and pressed his hands into the bank, attempting to push his upper body off the ground far enough so that he could pull himself into a sitting position. He only managed to lift his chest away from the dirt a few inches before he collapsed, causing a fresh burst of agony throughout his body, this time concentrating around his torso. He moaned and instantly began coughing again, spitting out what he hoped were the last drops of water in his lungs. He lay still afterwards, trying to work past the fog that hung over his thought processes. He felt warm and cold, all at the same time; smelled the horrible stench of burning oil, and heard somewhat distant yet very loud cracking sounds of an extremely large fire. He wasn't sure how he knew all these things, just that he knew them. Suddenly he felt a terror he had never before felt, he'd forgotten something, something important, something horrible. He concentrated on the sound of the fire, the sound of the water, and even through the pain he began to feel more peaceful. Feeling surer of himself this time, he turned slightly to the right, flinching in pain, swiveled his hips and began to draw his legs up to himself so he could get a better position to sit up. The pain burst again, but he gritted his teeth and moved through it, pushing with his arms as well. He was mostly on his left side now, and in a perfect position to watch his legs as he pulled them out of the river. The moment his right leg pulled free of the river he saw, and felt such a horror as he had never known in his entire life. He opened his mouth and screamed, and screamed. The shock turning his body into a boneless mass, and he collapsed once again onto the bank of the river, screaming and writhing in agony and shock as the cold water no longer numbed the long stump of what had been his right leg. His head wouldn't, couldn't accept it. He was mindlessly thrashing about in his torture until finally, mercifully, he fell unconscious.

Iro stood at the burning ship for what seemed like an eternity before slowly turning and stumbling back up the dock to the shore. He couldn't believe Zuko was dead. The boy had endured so much in his lifetime, how cruel for fate to take him now. Why had the ship exploded in the first place? Was it something faulty, or something more sinister? These thoughts and more pounded in his brain as he trudged slowly back up the path he had been on when the explosion happened. He wasn't sure where he was going yet; he didn't much care at that moment, if truth be told.

All at once his whirling thoughts were interrupted as an ear-splitting scream cut through the night air like a terrible knife. It was so anguished, so full of pain, the old man knew who had made the sound. He spun around and raced back down the path as fast as his aged body would take him. He ran in the direction of the sound as more screams created a horrible bubble of fear and apprehension in his stomach. Suddenly the screams died, and he could hear nothing besides the crackling and groaning of the burning ship. He was not far from the bank of the river, it didn't take him long to consider logically that judging by his proximity to the sound, if Zuko had washed ashore with the concussive shockwave of the explosion he should be on this side of the river. He had no way of knowing which way to go however, upriver, or down; he hadn't been able to pinpoint the sound well enough for that before it disappeared. For the first time in a very long time he felt on the verge of panic, a feeling the normally calm and self-assured general was unused to experiencing. He stopped, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down, and think rationally. It was nigh unto impossible. Finally he simply chose a direction and hoped it was the right one. It wasn't long before he found that he had chosen correctly.

The scene that met his eyes was one he would later wish he could erase from his memory, but, for some reason, it persisted throughout his days. He saw his beloved nephew, his Prince, the light of his life if he would admit it, laying partially on his side in the dirt, soaking wet, his clothes nonexistent having been burnt off his body by the intensity of the flames. His body was covered in burns and lacerations, some cuts deeper, much deeper than others. Suddenly Iro froze, his gaze reaching the boy's legs, at least, what was left of them. "No…" He exclaimed in shock and horror. It couldn't be… He felt emotion welling up inside him, pain and sorrow and guilt. He shoved it down and swallowed hard, shaking off the horror he felt and running to Zuko's side. "Zuko!" He cried, "Zuko can you hear me?" He stretched two fingers down to the boy's throat to search for a pulse; finding one, albeit faint, he heaved a sigh of relief and reached for the boy's shoulders and gently moved him onto his back and pulled the rest of his body out of the water. He shuddered inwardly as he saw the gruesome stump of his nephew's leg up close, and smelled the stench of burnt flesh. He looked away, unable to stop himself. He saw the boy's other leg and nearly groaned, his stomach feeling as if he should wish he had never eaten food in his life. Not only had Zuko lost a goodly part of his right leg during the explosion, but his left foot was missing the front part, just behind the toes. It was simply gone; somehow sliced off with possibly the same piece of ship metal that had taken the prince's other leg. It was almost too much for general Iro. Yes, he was a battle-hardened general who had seen many a war, and many a dead body, much gore and blood; however, none of them had been his own nephew. Even when he had lost his son, it was agony, but somehow still different from this.

The old man swallowed hard and willed his mind and body to cooperate as he removed his outer robe and placed it over the boy, ever-so-gently scooting his hands underneath Zuko's shoulders and thighs, trying to avoid the stump. He lifted the prince off the ground, slightly grunting as he turned to quickly scan the area before choosing to slowly trudge off into the large nearby forest. He had a feeling this night had not happened without reason, and as such, it would be safer to stay hidden. Even if it had not been, it would have been too far to carry Zuko to any town. He only hoped he could keep the boy warm enough while he carried him. He would have to find a place to camp for the night and tend to Zuko's wounds as best he could while he was unconscious and wait for him to awaken before he could attempt to leave to find a town.

It was sunrise almost before he knew it. Somehow he had managed to find a suitable place to make camp, and had heated a place on the ground to lay Zuko until he could fashion a quick makeshift shelter. Now, the boy rested peacefully, he hoped, and he was exhausted. He had found a stream nearby, and had torn off a portion of his outer robe to use as a wash rag; very gently cleaning out Zuko's wounds and trying to prevent infection if at all possible. He finally lay down near the fire he'd made, nearly collapsing in fatigue. He was asleep almost before his head hit the arm he was using as a pillow.

**Sorry it's so short, feedback feeds the muse!:)**


	2. To Accept the Incomprehensible

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it's a cryin' shame!

He was fighting, fighting a battle he didn't know if he wanted to win, but he fought anyway. His tormented subconscious had created an opponent to battle; it felt as if he had been battling forever, sometimes he thought he might lose, sometimes he felt he was close to winning, but always he was fighting. It wasn't his nature to give in, to give up; he'd been through too much for that.

Something had changed though; he could feel it. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he was gaining the upper hand, and he would _not_ lose it. It was with a victorious smirk he sliced his opponent in half with a white hot torch of flame and watched as it simply disappeared as if it had never existed. He blinked in confusion, how could that happen? One's enemy did not simply vanish into thin air, it wasn't possible. As he stood, wondering, he began to feel heavy, his bright dream world becoming very dark; it wasn't long before all was darkness. Then he heard a voice, a quirky male voice that seemed so familiar, yet so strange. He concentrated on the voice until he could understand words and sentences. The man seemed to be rambling, talking to no one in particular about wood and snow and herbs. He wanted to see the man who was speaking, and tried to open his eyes, but they felt heavy and he couldn't open them. It wasn't long before he began to notice other things as well. That is, more importantly, one thing in particular rather drowned out everything else. It was pain. He moaned without realizing it. Despite the hard coldness against his burned and scored back, and the odd smell his nose was bringing to his brain; the pain was all encompassing. He gave an involuntary shudder and instantly regretted it as his body objected to the movement and the pain worsened. He was no stranger to pain, he told himself; it was something he had to endure.

Iro heard even through his mutterings to himself the low moan from his nephew, and he dropped what he was doing and rushed into the makeshift shelter. "Zuko!" His voice shook. "Zuko, are you awake?" He had heard the boy make small grunts and moans before, but this one was somehow different from the others. He looked down at his nephew's blistered and torn body with as much anguish as he had the first time he'd found him on that river bank. It was agonizing to wait, to see if he would wake up, and if he did, how much of him remained. How he would react. The general shoved the thought from his mind with force born of years of loss. Time would tell. "Zuko." He was determined to wake him up this time. He gently laid a hand on the boy's shoulder where his robe sheltered his skin from the cold.

Zuko had heard a name spoken, it felt right. It was his name, he was sure of that. The voice, he was again sure he knew the man it belonged to but recognition danced just out of reach, as if some imp were dangling it then snatching it away just as he thought he might grab it. Suddenly he felt something touch his shoulder, and it erupted in agony. He groaned and his eyes flew open in surprise and he stared blurrily at nothing, shapes and light, too much light, and more pain! He was tired of the pain; it wouldn't go away and leave him alone! He shut his eyes again. Ah, that was better. Suddenly the voice nearly seemed to shout. "You are awake!" Zuko moaned again, wishing the voice and whatever had touched him would just disappear along with his seemingly endless torment.

The gentle pressure left his shoulder and his body seemed to sigh with relief. Then the man spoke again. "Zuko, can you hear me? If you can, just open your eyes a bit." _Open my eyes, the pain…why would I want to do that?_ His muddled brain instantly corrected him; Prince Zuko wasn't worried about a little pain. Wait, _Prince_ Zuko? He was a prince? His musings were once again interrupted. "Please Zuko. I need to know if you can understand me" he heard the man say, his voice was quieter this time, and it sounded gently pleading and sadder than before. He felt affection for the owner of the voice and decided to try and do as the man asked.

He slowly opened his eyes, just barely, so the light wouldn't be so overwhelming.

"Ah, Zuko you do understand me." The voice sounded relieved. He opened his eyes a bit more as they grew accustomed to the light. He was beginning to see something other than light and fuzzy dark shapes. The first thing he truly saw was the face that matched the quirky voice he'd been hearing. He felt as if he should know the man, the features were so familiar. The gray hair pulled into a topknot, the full gray beard and wrinkled skin. So familiar, but he just couldn't put a name to the face. He opened his mouth; suddenly he realized he was desperately thirsty. "W..wa..t.." his voice sounded wispy and raspy all at the same time, and it was difficult to force out the sounds.

"Water?" The old man in front of him asked. "Are you thirsty? Just blink once for yes."

Zuko slowly blinked and tried to clear his throat. "Shhh, don't try to talk, I'll be right back with some water for you." Then the man was gone from his range of vision and he closed his eyes to rest them. He remembered seeing tree branches and wood, it seemed as though they were in a forest. He stifled a moan as the pain that seemed to be his constant companion flared for a moment when he tried to shift his position. He stayed still. It seemed no time at all had passed and he heard the voice of the kind old man once more. "Ok Zuko, just open your mouth a bit, I have the water in a hollow half of bamboo reed, all you have to do is swallow." He simply obeyed and almost immediately the cool, refreshing liquid was trickling into his dry mouth and he swallowed thirstily; almost choking himself in his eagerness. "Easy Prince Zuko! There is plenty where that came from."

Once he was finished drinking he felt better somehow. He opened his eyes again and this time it was much easier to focus. He turned his head ever so slightly, testing it out to see how much he could move without causing a large amount of extra pain. It was bearable. He eyed what he could see of the shelter and decided that it looked rather hastily put-together. He finally realized he was somewhat cold, but again, bearable. He wanted to ask the kind old man who he was, and why he seemed so familiar. He wanted to ask what had happened, why he was in so much pain, why they were in a makeshift shelter in the forest (he assumed), why was he lying on some wood with just a robe laid over him? That thought brought him swiftly to a halt. Wait, why _wasn't _he wearing any clothes?! He cleared his throat. "A..ah" He coughed and regretted it, shooting pains knifed through his chest, and it felt like his skin was covered with a million scorpions all stinging him at once. He rasped a bit and stifled a cough. "What is it Zuko?" The old man asked, looking concerned.

"I…w…who…are you?" Instantly the man's concern deepened and he nearly frowned. A small sliver of fear sprang in his eyes. "Zuko…do you not know me? Think hard, are you sure?" He tried, but it seemed as if a wall of fire surrounded the information he sought, and he was unable to reach it, each time he made the effort a jolt of pain would slice through his head like a red hot knife. "I..I can't." He rasped, "the fire…won't..let me." Frowning in earnest this time, the old man looked at him steadily. "Are you sure of your name?" He was, and said as much. "Oh Prince Zuko, I am your uncle, most people call me Iro, or General Iro, but you usually just call me Uncle." The old man sighed and looked somehow deflated, like things were beginning to wear him down. His eyes looked so sad, Zuko suddenly felt sorry for him. "I'm s..ss..orry ..Uncle." He saw the emotions in his uncle's eyes disappear, as if a curtain had been drawn in front, he looked away. "Prince Zuko, you have nothing to apologize for. It is I, who must apologize to you for leaving you alone, when I should have been there for you. I am so very sorry, so very…" his voice caught and he swallowed hard, "very sorry." Zuko's eyes snapped back to his uncle's when he heard his voice catch. He read pain, self-loathing, sympathy and..pity? Why would he pity him? He may have forgotten some things but he knew very well the last thing he _ever _wanted from _anyone_ was pity! His eyes narrowed. "Why a…are you sorry? Why do I see…pity in yo..ur eyes? What a…are you hi..hiding from me?"

Iro looked away from the demanding gaze of his nephew. He was ashamed of his weakness. He didn't realize that Zuko would be so astute so quickly and recognize the pity he was unable to hide in his eyes.

"Answer me!" Zuko began to cough from his outburst and cried out in pain. Iro swung back around ready to aid him if need be. The boy's frantic efforts to stop his coughing and his body's involuntary movements caused the robe to slide off of him, revealing more than he wanted Zuko to see at that moment. He tried to cover the boy up again as fast as possible, but it was too late, the damage was done. The boy somehow sat up with superhuman strength, ignoring the waves of pain that simple action released, threw the robe back off and stared down in horror at what was left of his leg and foot. "No…no…_no…_NO!" He began screaming, his hoarse voice no less intense in his despair. "This c…can't be h..hap..happ..penning" he began to hyperventilate and curled into a fetal position, uncaring of his injuries, no longer able to create sentient thought. "Zuko!" Bellowed Iro, "you must calm down!" But the boy was lost in his own world of horror and screams and could no longer hear him. He moved to him quickly and placed the robe once again over his body; then he lowered himself down to the makeshift bed and held the boy as best he could. It would hurt, but it would be worse if he truly lost himself. The alternating shrieks and gasps for air continued, the wracking sobs that seemed so unlike the proud prince he knew. It was more than his heart could take, man or no, he was not made of stone; tears sprang into his eyes and fell, making tiny rivulets down his cheeks and dampening his suit. How he ached for this young one, so proud, so full of life, so much pain, so much anger and hurt to be trapped inside such a small vessel, but Zuko had always worn it well. Now…now…now he didn't know. Would he pull through, would he bounce back? Would he remember? Would he ever be the Zuko he used to know and love, and be proud of? The prince he loved like a son, the boy he would follow to his death, betray his country for, was he lost forever? The questions flew around in his head and spun like a tornado out of control, he closed his eyes. He had to keep it together for Zuko; he needed to get a handle on himself. Yes, Zuko needed him.

He was lost, so lost. He knew he had lost something he could never get back, and that loss had, in turn, caused him to begin to lose himself as well. He watched the scene with detachment, it seemed as if he were hovering over his broken, torn, and burned body, watching him tear himself apart, scream by scream, sob by sob. He saw the boy below him at last unable to breathe, he saw the man holding him cry out when the terrible sounds stopped so suddenly. The old man held the boy's body tightly as he almost shook him in his need to awaken him. "Zuko! NO, no you can't do this to me, Zuko! Don't leave me, please don't leave me! I've thought I lost you once tonight, I can't go through this again." His voice hitched and a sob caught his throat. "You're all I have left…" His voice trailed off. "You have to live."

_Suddenly the wood and branches of the shack in the woods faded away, and somehow he was standing beside a small babbling brook that wound through the forest. It looked so gentle, so happy; it made him feel safe, and secure, even calm. He sat down next to the brook and trailed his fingers in its clear coolness, watching as the water flowed over the glossy stones underneath. At that moment he realized he wasn't alone. His head snapped up and he jumped to his feet in surprise. He wasn't sure where he was or how he got there, but he would be prepared if someone was going to try to sneak up on him!_

"_Relax, friend." A gentle, calming voice spoke. The sound seemed to come from all around him, or maybe it came from the brook, it seemed just as peaceful. Somehow he felt himself relaxing, there seemed to be no danger at present that he was aware of. He remained standing, and looked around for the origin of the voice. "Where are you?" He finally spoke. "I am everywhere" the voice replied, and he realized it was a distinctly feminine voice, and very, very beautiful. "Yet I am nowhere." Zuko was confused. "Come again?" The beautiful voice laughed, a wonderful, musical sound, he would have liked to hear it again. "Friend, I have brought you to this place to give you a choice. The forest sensed your agony and I removed you from the instant of your possible death. As I said, you have a choice to make. You may leave things as they are, and you will surely cease to exist; leaving your uncle a lonely old man to be caught and tortured by the fire nation and killed. That is one path. You may choose to fight your fate, live, and learn to live with, and accept your new body, no matter how broken it may be to you; it is yours, and you have no other. This path comes with infinite possibilities, as the future is not yet written, and no one can say for sure just what will happen. You will be reunited with your uncle and you may very well fulfill your destiny, whichever one you choose. You may find friends, even love, as I said; anything is possible, if you will it so. You have little time left to choose; so choose wisely young one." The voice fell silent and Zuko sat down almost heavily. It was a lot to absorb, and apparently he had very little time in which to do it. He didn't really want to die, did he? He was pretty sure he loved his uncle, and didn't really want to leave him or have any of those things the voice mentioned happen to him, but he also remembered now; his body. The body he was going to be stuck with for the rest of his life; a body that would make it impossible for him to fight, ever again. A body he couldn't even walk in! How could that be considered living? How was he supposed to live, like..like that? He thought he wanted it all to go away; and here he had the chance to make that happen. But at what cost? The voice came once more. "It is time. What is your decision?" He hesitated for but a moment and closed his eyes. _

_He was not a coward. He was Prince Zuko, and he ran from _nothing!_ His eyes snapped open and he glared up defiantly at the leafy coverage above his head. "I choose to go back!" He cried, "back to my broken body and my uncle and the life I might have!" It almost seemed like the voice was smiling at him. "I wish you well on your journey, may you find your path and walk it with pride. Farewell."_

Without so much as a warning he was back in his own body and gasping for air, the pain closing in around him like a tightening shroud that threatened to suffocate him should he allow it to. He wouldn't allow it to. He fought through the pain and struggled to stay conscious. He realized that he was still in his uncle's arms; even though he had basically died his uncle had continued to hold him, to hold onto hope that he wasn't gone.

General Iro felt like a broken man. From the moment his nephew stopped breathing he knew that his life essentially was over. He saw a vision of himself being captured, tortured and eventually killed by the fire nation. He tried to care, but the only thing he truly cared about was the fact that he had lost the boy he had come to love as a son. It was but a few moments when all at once the still form in his arms began to gasp for air and he nearly dropped him in surprise! He couldn't believe it, it couldn't be his imagination, no one's imagination was _that_ good. He heard Zuko struggle to breathe and slowly his breathing calmed and he relaxed in his arms, turning over a little onto his back, clearly in much pain. "Zuko, you came back…" he breathed, almost afraid if he spoke normally, it might be a dream and he would be alone again. "Yes uncle," his nephew replied, "I came back. I'm sorry I nearly left you." It was all he could do to hold in the flood gates of his emotions in check. "Zuko, you have nothing to be sorry for. Just live, live and greet your future and find your destiny. I'm very proud of you."

Zuko felt the corner of his mouth almost twitch slightly; it felt good to hear that his uncle was proud of him. Then suddenly he yawned, he was so, so tired. "You're exhausted, of course you are, you've had a very rough day." His uncle carefully slid himself out from under the head and shoulders that he'd been holding and tucked the robe gently around him as best he could. "Get some sleep Zuko." The old man gave a tired smile. Zuko nodded slightly, and allowed his eyes to fall closed.

While Iro was truly overjoyed that Zuko lived, his heart held apprehension. It was going to be a long and rough rehabilitation, and he hoped he was ready for it; he hoped they both were.

The next day found Zuko awakening to the sounds of birds chirping in the trees. He immediately groaned. He hurt all over, he was still cold, and a particularly brave and possibly stupid bird was obstinately tweeting somewhere very nearby where he lay. He glared at the branches that made the ceiling to his shelter and dared to move his head a bit, wincing through the fresh surge of pain that simple movement brought. "Uncle!" He yelled, or at least, tried to yell; it came out sounding more like a frog gargling rocks. Ugh. He tried again. "Uncle, where are you?" Better. He noticed the bird had ceased its incessant twittering and smirked; then he frowned. Where was uncle? He wouldn't leave him, would he? No, no of course not, uncle would never leave him; he was the one person he trusted, the only person he could. He forced himself to relax. The old man would be back soon and he would simply have to wait. He was helpless without him, and he knew it. The bird began chirping again. He growled and coughed. "Shut up!" Silence. Where _was_ uncle? He wondered again, but to his chagrin, the cheeky bird provided the only answer to his thoughts. He made an inarticulate sound. He hated nature; _hated _it with a vengeance. Why were they in a forest anyway? Why couldn't uncle have taken him to a town? At least in a town it would have been warmer; here it was freezing. He shifted his position and gasped as a white-hot streak of pain shot through him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his arms up to his chest on each side, wincing as each movement felt like his skin was being ripped apart.

It mattered not; he would not let pain get the better of him. He made a herculean effort to raise his uncooperative body into a sitting position and succeeded, crying out in intense pain and feeling his head swim dangerously. _I will not pass out, I will not!_ He ordered himself inwardly, unable to do more than fight for consciousness and gasp as the physical torment threatened to render him senseless once again. A minute that seemed like hours later he had calmed somewhat, the pain had dulled to a certain extent and he was able to think more clearly. He finally felt the chill as the robe had fallen off his chest when he had sat up, and he looked down at himself hesitantly. Burns covered the majority of his shoulders, chest and arms. He knew most of them would heal and leave far lesser scars than the one on his face. A long, angry red gash that threatened to reopen from his movements ran along his chest sideways, and several smaller gashes and already healing scratches were all over the rest of him that he could see. He momentarily closed his eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat he grabbed the robe, and in one quick motion, snatched it off and tossed it to the side. Instantly he felt faint, and bile rose up in his throat at the sight his horrified eyes relayed to his brain. He wanted to close them, to shut out the revolting images. Finding it hard to breathe, he tried desperately to calm himself. Clenching his teeth, he remembered his uncle's training and focused his breathing and slowly brought his emotions under control.

There was only a long stump where his right leg had once been. Whatever had hit him had sliced it off just above the knee. The flesh at the end was blackened and ragged, behind it the leg was swollen and angry red. He gave an involuntary shudder, ignoring the hurt it caused and once again had to swallow the feeling of wanting to retch. He took a bracing breath and blinked, realizing that he had missed something. There was a kind of thin, dried, grayish-green film on his leg. He looked closer, it almost looked like a dried paste of some sort. Of course, he realized, uncle had found some herbs and made him a poultice. Leave it to uncle; he snorted. Once distracted, he was beginning to feel quite cold, and decided to quickly take stock of the rest of his body and then huddle under the robe again until his uncle came back. He took another deep breath and slid his eyes over to his left foot. His only foot, his mind added, seemingly simply to spite him. His jaw clenched, and he almost glared as he stared at the repulsive appendage. Whatever had taken his toes off had only left him with a crooked, partial foot. Where the ball of his foot should have been there was just a part of it, the flesh at the end jagged and burnt, moving up into red and angry, just like his right leg. Stump, his mind corrected him. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, then shook his head. He was a fighter; he knew he was. The beautiful voice he had heard believed he was too, he just knew it. Still, he didn't know how. How was he supposed to live, to function, much less fight again? He wasn't too sure what he'd been fighting for before this happened, but he was very sure he had to fight, right? His mind whirled with the questions he couldn't ignore, the pain that was his constant companion, and the cold that was seeping into his bones like a creeping frost. Reaching for the robe once again he flipped it out and let it settle over his legs, feeling the strange pain of the fabric rubbing against the damaged limbs as he lay back and pulled it up to his neck. A thought hit him at that moment, he felt a fool. He had no reason to be cold, he was a fire-bender; he could easily use the technique his uncle taught him to warm himself. He took a deeper breath than normal and expelled it, calling upon his fire to heat his body as he had done many times. Nothing happened. Terror began to fill him as he tried again, and again until finally he was forced to stop, as the pain in his chest began to take its toll. Finally, he lay still, his heart pounding and his breathing ragged. Where was his fire, his power? He had never heard of a bender losing their ability to bend. Slipping an arm out from under the robe, he reached for the fire in his mind, and attempted to simply create a small flame above his finger. Again there was nothing. It was as if a wall had been raised and his fire was no longer within reach. Could it be because he had lost limbs? Did that affect one's ability to bend? There were so many thoughts inside his head that he felt as if his head might explode. "Aaaa!" He cried out in frustration and fear, and attempted to regain some of his former calm by utilizing the breathing techniques again. Soon, he was fast asleep, but somehow, there was still a frown etched into his brow.

**A/N: Well here we are again, I'm really enjoying writing this story so updates should be relatively quick. Also, this is me, begging shamelessly for reviews! I'll love you forever! :)**


	3. To Decide a Path

**A/N: This is in response to the wonderful people who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story, I really appreciate it, and to thank you, here is another chapter for your reading pleasure. ;) **** BTW, I apologize in advance for any typographical, grammatical or spelling errors, I'm my own beta.  
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**Disclaimer, I own nothing but the idea and the way I put the words together.**

Iroh missed his tea. He was pretty sure that missing tea could harm a body, and probably a soul too. He'd left a sleeping Zuko at the break of dawn in an attempt to catch something for breakfast. He'd learned to get quite creative since they'd taken shelter in the woods, and while he wasn't starving, he did miss the three square meals a day served aboard ship. Oh, and the tea. He had tried to brew tea using a few plants and some bark he'd scavenged in the forest. The results had been…less than satisfactory at best; at worst, he'd given himself a severe case of the runs, and, for about a day and a half, a rather annoying and painful rash that covered more of him than he'd wanted. The old general was a nature lover, and had always been at home in the forest, but for some reason this was turning out to be less on the relaxing side and more on the "get me out of here!" side; based purely on his survival experience since they came. He sighed and finally turned to go back to the hut; there were few small animals to be had now that it was later in the morning, and he was quite sure the boy would be awake.

He let his mind wander as he worked his way back, he wondered if Zuko had awakened, and if he had, what were his thoughts? How was he taking this? How would he react once he was more coherent? He had never met a stronger young man, he knew the boy could bounce back, but something kept bothering him, niggling at the back of his mind. Could he still bend? If Prince Zuko could no longer bend, his entire existence would change even more so than it had already. Iroh had no real reason to doubt whether or not Zuko retained his ability to bend, but it worried him, since, not only had the boy lost a limb, he had also lost some of his memory; though he had regained parts of it.

Bending depended on feeling and moving and flow and purpose. Right now, Zuko was unable to accomplish those things and Iroh feared how he would react to the realization of another loss. Whether or not it actually had happened, and if so, whether or not it was temporary, remained to be seen. Sighing again, he trudged on, carrying his spoils.

Zuko awoke to the cheerful voice of uncle humming a tune as he cleaned the (rather charred) hair and skin off a very unfortunate rabbit. If that rabbit had four lucky feet and still managed to end up breakfast, Zuko thought wryly, it was no wonder HE was always in trouble, he had no luck at all.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a groan of pain he was unable to stifle. Iroh was inside almost immediately. "Good morning Zuko!" came the cheerful greeting; "how was your sleep? Breakfast is almost ready."

Zuko quickly decided shrugging was out of the question and went with a simple, mumbled "'morning." That was when he realized something very important; he needed to pee. Suddenly it occurred to him to wonder what he'd been doing since he'd passed out. He decided to shelve that thought, especially when, now that he was thinking about it, he REALLY needed to pee. Iroh had turned to go back out to finish breakfast when Zuko opened his mouth again and then cleared his throat nervously. "Um…" he stammered, "I need…to use the restroom!" he finished all in a rush, then looked into the corner of the makeshift shack and tried to look nonchalant. He was pretty sure uncle looked amused for about a split second, but he wasn't sure.

"I don't see any bathrooms out here, but if you need to go, that can be arranged." Zuko raised an eyebrow, "how exactly?" he questioned. Uncle held up a finger as if to say "one moment" and popped outside the shelter, coming back in almost immediately with a long, cylindrical piece of wood that appeared to be charred, and hollow inside. "I made this just for you, while you're convalescing." He announced proudly, and handed the wooden container to Zuko. He turned and left the shelter, leaving behind a bemused boy staring at the wooden thing, blinking slowly.

"Hurry up Zuko, I'm hungry, aren't you hungry? Finish so we can eat!" Zuko nearly jumped and grimaced. He couldn't believe he had to use this thing…how was he going to even…go? He shook his head. Well, he did need to go pretty bad. It took a few tries, but after a couple minutes he was feeling much…emptier, and, while embarrassed, he felt better. "I'm finished uncle" he called, and Iroh came in right away, taking the offending container from him as he looked the other direction with an annoyed and embarrassed blush.

It was just a few more minutes and uncle brought a hand carved wooden plank that served as a plate, with several small chunks of rabbit meat and a few nuts he'd scavenged. A small, rough, hollowed out bowl held water to drink, and Zuko took them gratefully. He hadn't realized that he was actually quite hungry and thirsty.

The corners of Iroh's mouth quirked up into a small smile, it was a good sign that the boy was hungry. He settled down cross-legged on the floor to enjoy his own breakfast comfortably.

Soon, they were both finished, and Iroh took their dishes and washed everything in the nearby stream. When he returned, Zuko asked, "uncle..could you make a small fire in here somehow? It…gets a little cold." Iroh's heart sank. It was just as he had feared, either the boy was unable to remember bending; he was too damaged right then, or possibly any number of things, or combination of those things. The old general carefully schooled his face into a passive mask, "I'll see what I can do; maybe I can make a small fire pit on the floor for you." Zuko nodded, "thanks" he mumbled and looked away. Iroh did the same, he was having a hard time controlling his emotions during this time, his blame of himself knew no limits, and times like this it was hard to keep it together. He hurried out the door to go gather stones from the stream bottom, and to get his emotions under control again before he must again face his nephew.

He knew. Uncle had just run away from him. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with him for very long. He didn't blame him, he was hideous now, and a huge pain to deal with; he was sure of that. Zuko felt once again the terrible, gut-wrenching fear, tinged with disgust as he once again really looked at his broken body. He shuddered inwardly and briefly closed his eyes. He'd made the choice to live. He hadn't forgotten that lovely voice and the choice he'd made. He wasn't sure what his purpose was, but, whatever it was, he would find it, he was sure of that. It just might take awhile. He sighed and looked down at himself again. He looked for a long while. When this was all behind him, he decided, he would have a talk with uncle and truly thank him for being there for him, he had more to thank the man for than he could ever hope to truly express.

The days crept by, slowly turning into weeks, as if time had decided that tragedy must be savored slowly. Iroh and Zuko fell into a pattern; for Iroh, the days were busy enough, and consisted of mostly domestic type tasks, hunting and feeding and cleaning etc. For Zuko, who was still an invalid, the days drew out and blended together into one endlessly long , though now rather mundane, nightmare. Zuko's body was slowly beginning to heal what it could; the angry red welts and burns were now pinkish and far less painful than before, and the cuts were all but healed with only minimal scarring. His stump was beginning to heal as well, much the same as the burns, just slower. Thanks to Iroh's vigilant and careful care, not a single wound became infected, for which they both were grateful.

They had talked about Iroh journeying to the nearest town for much needed supplies (and tea, definitely tea), but, while Zuko agreed with seeming disinterest, Iroh caught the boy's eye for just a moment and saw real fear flash before he turned his head away. Feigning a careless mood he glibly put off the trip, pretending to be too lazy and tea-starved to venture out. Inwardly, he worried. They did need supplies; they couldn't live like this forever. Eventually, soon, he would have to go, and when he did Zuko would have to make do on his own, he just wasn't sure how yet. His brow knit in a small frown as he puzzled. It would take some thought.

His panic abated, he felt like he could breathe more easily. He was terrified to be left alone, unable to care for and protect himself. He sucked in a breath and held it, suddenly realizing something that had, until now, escaped him. He was fearful. He was dependant. He shouldn't be. That wasn't who he was; it would never be who he was. Something began to stir inside him, deep in his belly it felt like a small glow. What was he doing anyway? Wasting away here in the forest, it wasn't natural. Yes, he'd suffered a horrible tragedy, but life went on; and currently, it was going on _without_ _him_. "_I'm done being an invalid!"_ he thought stubbornly, "_it's time to take my destiny, whatever that may be, back from whomever I've been letting steal it from me! They only took part of my body; it's up to me to make sure they don't take my spirit!" _ He nodded emphatically and glared at the walls of the shelter as if to dare it to tell him to do otherwise.

It was late today, but first thing tomorrow he would ask uncle to make him some crutches. His first course of action would be to get back on his feet..foot..his thoughts hitched a bit, but he brushed it aside; he needed to be standing and walking, however he could accomplish that. He was pretty sure that was the only way he'd make progress. He knew he was still missing something; memories, and whatever that special something was that made him bend fire. _"I'll get it"_ he told himself, _I WILL survive to conquer this, and I'll be stronger for it!"_ With that, he laid down again to rest, his mind whirling.

Tomorrow was a new day. It would be a good day, he was sure of it.

He awoke to; he was sure, the very same noisy and opinionated bird which had serenaded him so irritatingly on his first morning awake after his accident. This time, however, he wasn't quite so irritated at the cheerful bird's twittering; today was an important day, it was the day he started his new life. He sat up slowly and yawned, stretching gingerly. He still had a few twinges here and there from his worst injuries. It had been nearly a month since the explosion, and he was feeling so much better than he had, even just 2 weeks previous. He grabbed the cylinder that he was now accustomed to (though not pleased with) using and took care of his needs before setting it as far from himself as possible; he drank the small bowl of water uncle always left for him first thing in the morning and sighed contentedly, wondering what he would do today to start working on getting on with his life.

"Good morning Zuko!" Uncle bellowed as he popped through the door, "I have your breakfast right here, are you hungry yet?" Zuko nodded, "yes uncle, I believe I'm quite hungry this morning". Iroh smiled and handed him the plate, taking the cylinder with him as he left. "I've already eaten, so if you want more there is plenty!" Zuko nodded again, even though uncle was already outside and couldn't see him. His mouth was full, he preferred not to talk. He ended up finishing off the rest of the food, why let it go to waste?

He began to feel nervous once his belly was full and he had time to think. He was going to have to ask uncle for crutches, and that meant even more work for the poor man, and he knew how much of a burden he was already on him. His brow furrowed as he considered asking uncle for the wood to craft them himself. He had no experience in wood-carving, he might cut himself up instead, and that would not be helpful. Finally, he just decided to ask and have it done with. "Uncle…" he called out hesitantly.

Iroh, who happened to be returning from the stream, barely heard his call. He sped up and almost trotted the rest of the way back to the shelter and burst through the door. "Zuko?" he asked questioningly, "is something wrong?" The boy shook his head, "no no uncle, I'm sorry, I just…" Zuko hesitated and then took a breath that seemed to fortify him, and went on; "would, I mean, I would like to try to start walking!" he finished in a rush. "Maybe if I had some crutches…I could help make them" he added quickly, before Iroh could speak.

He had to struggle to keep his emotions in check. He had been hoping this day would come, praying for it. He knew Zuko would eventually decide to go on with his life, and he was so proud of him. Iroh blinked rapidly and willed himself to answer steadily. "Of course, Zuko; as a matter of fact" he smiled as best he could, "I've been working on a pair of crutches for you in my spare time. I figured you'd want them eventually and I wanted you to have them when you were ready." Zuko appeared surprised, but quickly overcame it with a heartfelt "thank you uncle". Iroh turned quickly to go out, "I'll be right back with them!" he called, and as he left the shelter a tear or two managed to squeeze from his wrinkled eyes; happy tears they were.

In no time at all he had retrieved the crutches he'd painstakingly carved and smoothed over the last near month. He'd made sure there was nary a splinter to be found, he'd even padded the armrests with some clothing pieces stuffed with dried forest moss. He had never considered himself a carver or carpenter, but with what little he had in the way of tools (a good knife), he decided he'd done quite, quite well for them. He smiled as he moved quickly to the shelter, eager to show his masterpieces to Zuko.

Uncle seemed to almost float back in the door of the shelter with, what looked like to Zuko, a couple of really nice, smooth, carved crutches. He was surprised and impressed, he had no idea his uncle was woodworking inclined. "Uncle, they're very nice, how did you manage to make them so smooth?" He asked as he was handed one for inspection. Iroh beamed. "Just a little elbow grease and some time" he answered, clearly pleased that Zuko seemed to like his handiwork. Zuko smiled back. He turned his attention back to the crutch in his hands and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. He looked at it as a whole, and then tried to keep from thinking about why he needed such a tool, and the darkness of despair began to close in on him again. The small smile had completely left his face, and in its place was the more familiar, haunted, pained look he had worn much of the time since the accident. Uncle gently plucked the offending item from his suddenly nerveless fingers and he looked up at him questioningly. Turning away, the old man leaned both crutches against the corner and once again turned back to face Zuko. His smile seemed strained and sad. "I know it is hard Zuko. I thought you might possibly react this way when presented with something more concrete such as crutches. It's just one more step towards accepting this terrible thing that has happened to you." Zuko took a deep breath, trying to chase away the darkness of despair, and thought uncle almost looked worried, and wondered what he might be planning to tell him.

"I can't pretend to understand what you're going through" he started, looking straight into Zuko's eyes. "I wish I could take it on myself, I would spare you this, if I had the ability." Suddenly his uncle looked old and tired, and the boy felt a small twinge of fear. He shook his head. "No uncle, I have a lot to thank you for, and I haven't done it. You have done more for me than any other person to ever exist in this world, even..." he hesitated, but forged on; "even my mother." He watched as uncle registered what he'd said. "Thank you uncle," he added quickly. "I couldn't ask for anyone better than you. You do not need to do more than you already have, I will be ok, because of you." He nodded emphatically. "I will be able to conquer this, because I know you'll be there to make sure I do." Uncle seemed to swallow a little convulsively and he thought he saw a little telltale moisture at the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat, reaching over for the crutches and placing them against the wall next to Zuko's bed. "I know you will" he said, his voice husky with emotion.

Feeling a bit awkward at this display of emotion, Zuko sought to change the subject somehow. "So, how do I do this?' he questioned. Iroh cleared his throat again. "I can help you to the edge of the bed, then we can try to get you standing using the crutches." He scratched his chin. "It's been a month since you've stood up, so your muscles will not be in good shape. You will probably get dizzy, so we'll do this a few seconds at a time I think." Zuko was inclined to agree with him, he hoped he wouldn't pass out when he stood up.

Iroh placed his arms under Zuko's and positioned him sitting on the side of the bed. Zuko's remaining foot felt strange on the floor. It didn't quite hurt exactly without putting weight on it, but it simply felt strange. He pressed against the floor experimentally; the foot only hurt slightly near the stub, he should be able to at least stand on it for a few seconds. Uncle waited patiently, quietly watching with pride and empathetic pain, ready to help him to his feet and steady him when he stood.

Zuko grabbed a crutch in each hand and wedged them under his shoulders; he leaned forward and pushed with his foot and put pressure on the crutches, straining with all his might to even move himself off the bed. Unused muscles screaming, he managed to get his body off the bed and partially in a half-standing position before the momentum from his first shove, and his inability to really move due to unused muscles, sent him falling forwards. He knew a moment of pure, unadulterated panic as he fell. He'd never felt so helpless and terrified in all his life as in that one moment when he realized he was truly helpless and unable to keep himself from falling. Suddenly, right in front of him was uncle's belly, and he slightly "whumphed" as uncle caught him against himself. "I've got you" he comforted as he helped Zuko sit back down.

He was shaking with effort, and with remnants of his fear and helplessness. At the moment he didn't care, and he openly cried in front of his uncle. He was unable to stop the tears, they came from a place he seemed to have no control of whatsoever. Uncle sat down on the bed next to him and reached an arm around him and gently squeezed. "Oh Zuko, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't steady you as you stood up, I should have held onto you so you would feel steady". He shook his head. "It's hard, it's going to be hard and it will get harder, but I know you can do it." He gently rubbed Zuko's arm as he hugged him. "You just let it out; release all that pain so you can start healing."

Once he was able to get a handle on his emotions Zuko quickly told his uncle; between hiccups and hitching breath from his earlier sobbing, that he was thankful he had been there to catch him, and he knew it would be hard, and that he wanted to try again. Uncle nodded and stood closer this time, right in front just to the side, where he could hold onto, and steady him, as he stood. Zuko positioned himself again and heaved upwards once more, determined to at least stand up and confident that uncle would help him. He saw uncle's hand reach for his arm to steady and help him gain his balance as he began to put weight on his foot instead of just pressing against the floor with it. While it had had about a month to heal it wasn't completely healed yet, and while pressure was one thing, his entire body weight was another thing altogether. The pain was intense, but he'd felt worse. He gritted his teeth and held on tight to the crutches, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. His muscles began to shake and he trembled with the effort of using ones long inactive. He knew he wasn't balancing, without uncle he would have been face down on the floor almost instantly. None of that mattered though, because, even though uncle was steadying him, his foot was screaming at him, and the pressure under his arms from the wooden crutches was highly uncomfortable, he was standing. For the first time since he'd nearly been blown apart, he was standing. After enjoying his moment of triumph he felt his body giving out, he'd about reached his limit. Zuko ground out between clenched teeth "uncle, help me down", panting and gasping with relief when he finally was again seated on the bed.

"In time you'll get better, your muscles will become accustomed to the use and it will be easier" uncle assured him, patting his arm gently. He laid the crutches against the wall and picked up the water bowl and offered Zuko some water. After he drank, Zuko asked uncle to help him lay down. He was very tired. Just that small bit of exertion had spoken to him more plainly than anything just how out of shape he truly was. _"I'm going to have to really work hard to get into better shape." _ He was determined to see it through. _"I WILL walk on my own again."_ He declared to himself with all the decisiveness he could muster. _"I WILL!"_

**A/N: Whew… I hope it was satisfactory guys, and worth waiting all that time for..haha! If you like it, let me know. I love reviews even though I basically don't get any..lol. Reviews/feedback will possibly decide whether this story gets updated or not, so dooo iiit…! **** Thanks!**


	4. To Stand Upright

**A/N: Ok, so, I tried to advance the story a bit, but you know, I'm not sure I did..LoL! Either way, enjoy! I'm really going to try and keep this updated from now on, I'm starting to get into it again, so keep an eye out for them!**

**BTW, thanks to everyone who read/favorited/followed/reviewed! You guys are great!**

**Disclaimer, I own nothing but the idea and the way I put the words together; such a shame.**

Despite his impassioned resolve, Zuko's recovery remained slow, almost achingly so. At first, at the suggestion of uncle, he only tried standing twice a day; once in the morning, and once in the evening. After awhile he advanced to moving himself slowly back and forth inside the shelter. Outside of that, uncle had created a workout regime for him that he could do laying or sitting. He was badly in need of muscle strengthening, and that did not require standing. Some days, uncle would assist him by providing him with resistance training to speed up the muscle re-growth. He had hunted around the forest for a couple of large rocks to give Zuko to use in more basic strength training. Iroh knew Zuko was going to have to rely on his hands, arms and upper body strength much more now than he ever had before; therefore he was convinced it was imperative that Zuko's upper body be as strong as possible.

There were times when Zuko wanted to give up. Some days it was hard for him just to force himself to move, much less do his strengthening exercises. Occasionally it would all become too much, and he would begin to sink into despair. Uncle never chided him, he simply took care of him as always, and believed Zuko would move back onto the path of healing in due time; which he always did. That small flame inside his heart never ceased to dance and flicker; it might die down, or burn brighter, but it was always there. Sometimes just sensing it, and knowing it was there, made Zuko feel better somehow.

In this way two months passed by without either of them truly realizing it. The weather began to warm somewhat, much to Zuko's relief. Neither of them had very much in the way of clothing, the only articles of clothing they had came from what Iroh had been wearing at the time of the explosion. Tattered and threadbare, they threatened to fall apart every day it seemed, and the old general knew that if he didn't journey to a village soon, it would be difficult to do so, because he would have little left with which to cover up; he doubted people would look favorably upon a wild looking old man wearing little to nothing coming from the forest asking for clothes having no money with which to pay. He resolved to spend more time deciphering the dilemma of how to get them supplies; it would be time well spent.

Zuko awoke one morning feeling particularly refreshed. Today felt important somehow, like life was moving, the world was moving, and somehow things were happening. He tried to shake off the feeling, seeing as so far, it seemed relatively normal, but the stubborn feeling refused to shake. There was a queer sort of bubble in his stomach, he wasn't sure if it was anticipation or dread. It began to worry him and he frowned, glaring at the wall of the small shanty as if it were somehow responsible for his unrest.

"Uncle" Zuko called out. No response. He tried again. "Uncle!" He practically shouted. His frown deepened. Uncle wasn't there. Of course, that was not unusual, as the old man had many chores to do and was often out in the forest hunting. As long as they had been there the game was becoming a bit scarce nearby, and uncle was forced to range much further than before to find meat. Still, with this strange feeling weighing on him, he couldn't help but worry since uncle was usually back by this time of the morning.

Trying to force the simulation of a normal day, especially since he had no concrete evidence to suggest that it was otherwise, he proceeded to take care of his morning rituals. Once he had finished every bit of training and exercise he could do without uncle's help, worry began to gnaw at him once again. An hour had passed since he'd completed his exercising and still uncle had not returned. That bubble in his stomach had turned into a leaden ball. He was quite sure it was dread now, and with it, a healthy dose of fear. He was nearly helpless without uncle, almost like a small child, unable to do anything but the most basic of things for himself. His mind began to wander. If something happened to uncle and he did not return, Zuko felt sure he would die out there in the forest, slowly and excruciatingly. Most likely, being unable to feed himself, he would eventually become so weak he could no longer move and would simply starve to death; at least, that's assuming he didn't dehydrate first. His thoughts continued in the downward spiral they had taken and the more he thought about it, the more afraid he became. Zuko began shaking and held himself with his arms wound around his stomach tightly, as if he could protect himself by sheer strength. Never in his life had he felt more helpless and afraid. Even right after his accident uncle had been there, now, there was no one. He was going to die, out here, in the forest, alone. He shuddered.

It was awhile before his sobs had finally subsided, and weary in mind and body; he slipped into a fitful sleep. The shadows had begun to lengthen when Zuko finally awakened once again. He felt as if someone had run over him with a cart full of cabbages. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes he realized the time of day, and remembered the reason for his sleep. The lead ball of dread in his stomach instantly gained about a hundred pounds it seemed, and he looked around, hoping against hope that uncle might be here, might have come back while he slept. "Uncle!" He called out. There was no response. He was truly alone. He shivered again and once again wrapped his arms around himself. What had happened to uncle? Why wasn't he back by now? What was he going to do if uncle didn't return? He felt the walls of despair closing in on him again and he fought it. He knew better, he really did. He remembered the voice, the beautiful voice that had saved him and given him a choice. It had been some time since he had thought of that voice, and somehow, the thought calmed him. He wondered if the voice was somehow a type of forest spirit (if such a thing could exist), and if perhaps uncle might receive help as well? He sighed at the thought; it was highly unlikely that it was anything more than an overactive imagination due to a near death experience. Zuko chided himself for allowing his mind to wander and turned it instead to the here and now. He was not the type to wallow, at least, not for long. It was time to keep moving, he could not give up. He had to believe uncle would come back; he had no other course of action. In the mean time, he needed to do what he could before darkness fell and he could no longer see. Somehow he needed to find food.

Zuko had yet to actually walk further than back and forth inside the small shelter. He was unsure as to whether or not he could even move safely outside, and if he could, how quickly would he tire? His thoughts spun like a tornado in his mind as he reached for his crutches and carefully hoisted himself in a standing position. It had taken a long time for him to get even that far, and he felt proud in his progress. He just wished he'd had more time. Controlling his movements carefully he slowly began to walk, making sure to keep his progress steady and unhurried; he couldn't afford to lose his concentration, or his balance. When his crutches, and slow, halting progress brought him outside the door of the shanty that had been home to him for over three months, he paused, steadying himself. He felt a kind of freedom, as worried as he was; it seemed almost symbolic, as if he has crossed the threshold of his future somehow. In that moment he came to the realization that he had been depending on his uncle too much. Yes, he was crippled, a fact he hated but couldn't change. However, that didn't mean he should rely on his uncle for everything, as he had been doing. In a mortifying thought, he realized he was even still using the cylindrical "pee tube" as he'd dubbed it. It wasn't necessary. The thought made him blink in surprise. He didn't need it. He could easily use one crutch and a tree to lean on to do that, he didn't need the hollow cylinder. He nearly blushed; as for the other bodily function, well, his thoughts rather hitched and he was unable to complete them. Due to his loss of a limb and partial foot loss he thought he truly was unable to complete that bodily function without assistance since there was no bathroom out here in the forest. No matter how embarrassing it was, though he'd grown moderately accustomed to having uncle's help, it was still humiliating to be unable to 'go' on his own. He shook his head slowly as if to clear away the thoughts that buzzed inside. This was getting him nowhere. He needed to find something he could eat somehow. At this point he felt like he was starving, having not eaten anything all day. It was early evening now and soon it would be too dark to look. It occurred to him to wonder how he would gather what he might find should he happen upon anything edible; since, although he had practiced walking on his crutches he had not practiced going down onto the floor and getting himself back up using them. He wished he'd had the foresight to practice that.

Zuko managed to make it a couple hundred yards from the shelter before the strain began to wear heavily on him and he was forced to lean against a tree in order to keep his balance. He'd been working hard the past couple of months, but apparently, it hadn't been hard enough, he thought, frustrated. The sun was completely hidden to him now and the forest had darkened considerably. He began to feel nervous; he'd never been this far away from the shelter, what if he lost his way in the dark? It wasn't worth it to try and find something he had yet to even see a hint of. He rested a few more minutes and then turned and made his slow journey back to the shelter, retracing his steps as carefully as he could.

He arrived at the small shanty just as the forest was truly becoming nearly too dark to see safely in. He was almost gasping for breath and every part of him ached. He hadn't worked his body this much since the accident, and he was proud of himself for making it so far, yet so very exhausted. As he hobbled into the shelter he happened to notice something on a small shelf on the opposite side from where he usually spent his time. He moved slowly over to where it was and realized that he'd completely forgotten uncle had told him of the jerky he'd placed there in case Zuko ever got hungry while uncle was out hunting. If he would have had a free hand he would have slapped his forehead in a gesture of self-disgust. How could he have forgotten the jerky? He sighed. At least he wouldn't starve. Uncle, in his caring had also left a small bowl of water should Zuko become thirsty. It was, of course, nowhere near enough, but it would appear uncle had not intended on being gone so long. Thankful beyond words Zuko carefully leaned against the wall and grabbed the bowl, eagerly gulping about half the contents before he forced himself to stop and place it back on the shelf. Then he grabbed a couple pieces of the small jerky and held them in his lips as he hobbled back to his bed to consume them. He nearly collapsed on the bed as he released the pressure of standing from his body. He hurt everywhere. If he hadn't been so very hungry he'd already be half asleep. Zuko chewed the jerky slowly, hoping to make it seem like it was lasting longer; all the while worrying again about his uncle.

The next day found him again ravenous. He had finished the rest of the water that morning with a couple more pieces of jerky that did nothing for the hunger that was gnawing on the insides of his belly. He knew he had to do something, so once again he set out to try and forage something that might be edible. Paying close attention to his surroundings, he slowly and carefully searched every inch of the area around the shelter in a about a 50 yard radius. He knew he couldn't afford to get lost, or to be caught too far away from a place to sit down were he to become exhausted. Getting up from the ground would be far more difficult than from a sitting position, and since he hadn't practiced that, he couldn't risk the possibility. Right then and there he decided that one of the first things he was going to do when uncle came back would be to have the man help him learn how to safely and quickly get off the ground using his crutches. He signed. "Uncle!" He cried out suddenly in a moment of weakness. "Uncle where are you? I need you…" his voice died down to a whisper as he spoke the last words. He did need his uncle, without him, he would surely die. He was lying to himself if he truly believed he could forage enough to keep himself alive. A thought hit him; could he find the stream uncle used? If he could find that, he might have a chance of lasting a bit longer. A new determination coursed through him and he moved carefully back to the shelter to grab a small, sharp rock uncle had used on occasion for different things. After resting in the shelter for a little while he resolutely hauled himself up and took off in the direction he believed he'd seen his uncle take when heading to get water.

He cursed his need for crutches as they limited his ability carry things, and he was unable to carry even the small, rough, wooden bowl in case he did indeed find the water. He glowered at a tree up ahead of him, as if somehow, the tree was to blame for his misfortunes. The tree just stood there proudly, as if mocking him with its stoical trunk and unmoving branches. He turned away and shook his head. Now he was imagining trees doing strange things. He was beginning to go crazy and uncle had only been gone a day. What he wouldn't give to hear the old man's quirky voice complaining about missing his tea. Shaking his head as if trying to clear the thoughts from his mind, he moved ahead, using the sharp rock he'd taken from camp to score a mark on the very tree he'd been glaring at in a juvenile burst of anger. He didn't mark the tree without reason; it was his hope that scoring them with the rock would be a good enough trail to follow to help him find his way back.

He was forced to take frequent rests, and it was midday before he realized it. Zuko was thirsty and hungry, and he had forgotten to bring a piece of jerky to eat. He was so very hungry he felt like he could have eaten an elephant and not have been satisfied. He trudged on; his slow, halting pace making what might have been a much quicker walk seem long in comparison. So caught up in his journey was he, that he missed the soft sounds of a flowing stream in the distance. He stopped for another much-needed rest and suddenly his ears caught the sound of that stream. "I made it!" He shouted exultantly. "I found the stream!" Invigorated with renewed strength he pressed on, and was soon standing at the bank of a medium sized stream with clear water that babbled over stones and down miniature waterfalls as it wound through the forest. His joy turned to dismay when he realized that the water was nearly as far away from him right now as it had been when he was at the shelter. He had yet to learn how to get down to and up from the ground with his disability using the crutches. If he was to obtain a drink of water, which, at this point, was very necessary, he was going to have to figure it out the hard way and hope for the best.

Zuko looked around for a tree with a limb that was low enough that he could grab a hold of from the ground. A short ways up the stream he found what he was looking for and braced himself as best he could, reaching out to give it an experimental tug. The limb held; he could use it. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to figuring out how he would get down onto the ground without falling or hitting himself in the head with a crutch. He thought for a few moments, and then allowed his left crutch to fall to the ground out of his way. He quickly grabbed the branch he'd chosen and balanced as much of his weight as possible on his foot; he slowly moved the other crutch out from under his shoulder and used it in more of a leverage capacity as he lowered himself to the ground. He was panting and sweating and rather plopped the last few inches onto the ground, his leg having given out on him. After the explosion his body still had yet to truly be fully recovered. He moaned in pain and stretched out flat on his back on the forest floor a few feet from the stream. Zuko didn't stay that way for long though, thirst was a hard taskmaster and he was its slave. He shoved himself into a sitting position and held his stump up out of the way as he used his leg and arms to scoot over to the stream on his backside, he rolled to the side and then over onto his stomach with his face over the water, bracing himself with one arm and using the other hand to bring mouthfuls of water to his parched lips that he eagerly sucked down. Once the initial urgency of his thirst was quenched he realized there was a slightly strange feeling when he reached his hand into the stream. It wasn't good or bad, painful or pleasurable; it was simply…strange. Different. It almost felt like the water was questioning him. He laughed aloud at the ridiculous notion and with a wild thought, rolled over again, right into the current of the stream. The cool water felt wonderful, and he had missed that feeling. "I must really be going nuts." He muttered aloud. "First I was angry at trees, now I'm imagining a stream is asking me questions. Oh yes, and I'm talking to myself. Wonderful. Uncle would laugh at me if he were here right now." Zuko rolled his eyes at no one and tried to shake off the strange feeling that was much stronger now that his body was in full contact with the water. It felt so good for the cool liquid to ripple over his body that he really didn't care too much how strange it felt, it was just a feeling after all.

The longer he lay in the water the better he felt, his exhaustion and soreness from the hike to find the stream was fading, and he found himself relaxing as he hadn't relaxed in a very long time. In fact, he was so relaxed he was beginning to doze off. A sharp sound snapped him awake instantly. His eyes went wide and his heart was suddenly beating triple-time. He scanned the area as best he could from his position in the water and was relieved to see nothing more than a small rabbit, looking for water, just as he had been. He froze, thinking that perhaps if he held still enough; the rabbit might actually come close enough for him to catch it. Then he realized that there was no way he would be able to cook the meat, he couldn't stomach the thought of raw meat; he wasn't that hungry yet. Zuko continued to lie still as the rabbit drank and washed its face with its paws, the small nose twitching in a way even he thought was a little bit cute. Suddenly he had an irresistible urge to sneeze. He tried desperately to hold it back without moving, but the sneeze would not be denied and exploded out of him without warning, raising him halfway out of the water, droplets flying everywhere. The poor rabbit jumped straight into the air, then, by the time Zuko had opened his eyes from the sneeze, he saw a white fluffy stump tail disappearing into the underbrush. He couldn't help it, he began to laugh; deep belly laughs that shook his body and stole his breath, tears of laughter squeezing out of his eyes and running down his cheeks as he guffawed.

When his stomach hurt and he just couldn't breathe anymore from all the laughing he quieted down, once again allowing himself to relax back into the soothing water. His thoughts turned to the hapless rabbit and he grinned again. Somewhere out there, there was a terrified rabbit telling other rabbits never to go to that part of the stream again, that there was a huge and horrendous stream monster, and if you weren't careful it would gobble you up! Zuko grinned again at his own foolishness; for the first time in his life he felt carefree and happy. He knew it was a fleeting feeling, uncle was missing and he was without food and without a way to carry water, but that could wait. Right now, Zuko was happy.

**A/N: Happy Zuko, *gasp* it's the end of the world! Or not.. anyway, hope you enjoyed it, apologies that it's a little shorter than the last one but this seemed like a good place to end this one. How will he survive? Where is Iroh? All will be answered in time! **


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